His eyes glaze over, shiny arctic blue when they抮e angry.
揊or the last time, the bland drink wasn抰 his fault. What抯 the point of this??
If he had a tail, it抎 be slapping the ground in frustration.
I stare, never softening my ghost of a smile. 揃ecause, Mr. Lancaster. If we抮e crystal clear now, then we won抰 need to talk this out later when one of us has a bad day. No condescension. No talking down. No bossypants.?
揃ossypants??He glares at me. 揑抣l apologize to the damn barista if you抣l sign the contract. Anything else??
Holy hell.
...I never expected him to agree.
I shake my head, which suddenly feels ten pounds lighter.
He looks down at the neatly clipped paper packet on his desk. 揥ill you sign the contract now? I抣l have it over to my legal team by morning.?
揘ot just yet.?I point to the phone on his desk and give him a sad look. 揑抦 pretty sure Wayne is working right now...?
揜ight now-right now? You抮e serious? You want me to call so you can witness my humiliation??
揌ow else would I know??I ask softly.
揥ouldn抰 Not Boyfriend tell you??His death stare threatens to light my hair on fire.
揌e抯 not my boyfriend.?I抦 thoroughly annoyed at how hard I deny it. 揥e抮e busy people. Unless I pop into the store, I only really see him when I抦 ordering coffee or serving breakfast at the homeless camp. Since I抣l be developing coffee, I might as well just get my morning coffee here too, don抰 you think??
That bulging, powerful fist on his desk tightens.
揂ngelo, we haven抰 even spent an hour together and I already don抰 like you. It normally takes a few encounters for me to despise people.?
揙h, good. I was worried it was just me. The feeling抯 mutual.?
With a frustrated rumble, he rips up the phone and stabs at the buttons, dialing the number before he sets it down again. 揝tore抯 closed. Wrong timing.?
揙h! Well, lucky for you, I have his number in my contacts somewhere. Give me a sec...?I reach for my phone and pull up Wayne抯 number, then pass it across the desk.
Lancaster glares at me as he punches the CALL button hard enough to crack my screen.
揅areful! You owe me a new phone if that comes back damaged...?
His eyes could flay me alive.
揑s this Wayne from the Seventh Street store??he asks.
I try not to explode laughing. He sounds like a naughty kid being forced to apologize to the neighbor for leaving dog poop in their yard.
揟his is Cole Lancaster. Listen, I wanted to apologize just in case my critiques of the new beverage line were overly harsh during the recent inspection.?He goes quiet, listening intently. 揧es. Right. Good. I抦 certainly glad to hear there are no hard feelings...?
By the time he mutters a few more awkward words, I almost feel bad for enjoying how much he squirms.
Lancaster ends the call and chucks the phone back at me. 揝ign the damn contract. Now. I抣l expect you here at six a.m. sharp tomorrow morning.?
揙kay. I need a pen.?I can barely get the words out between the laughter trying to claw its way up my throat.
He practically throws a fat, expensive-looking fountain pen with his initials engraved in shiny platinum at me.
I slash my name across the paper without pointing out his obscene taste in pens.
I suppose I抦 feeling generous.
揊YI, I do my best brewing at nine,?I tell him, twisting in my seat.
揧ou抣l learn to do it at six.?His glare knifes through me. 揝ee you then, Miss Angelo. Welcome the hell aboard.?
Woof. Why do I get the feeling he won抰 be much friendlier no matter how bright and early I show up?
揝ee ya soon, boss.?I snicker as I slide the contract over, lift my purse, and walk out the door.
Yesterday, when he said 搇ab,?I honestly thought it was just a fancy name for a back-room roastery.
But this place is shock and awe from the second I step inside.
Imagine a fancy CDC lab and NASA unit having a baby dedicated to inventing addictive beverages. It抯 stainless steel and sleek machinery perched on marble everything as far as the eye can see.
Every contraption a master roaster could ever want in their wildest fever dreams. There抯 high-tech equipment for weighing, measuring, temp testing, chemical analysis, and more.
My two-thousand-dollar coffee equipment at home feels like Stone Age technology.
With gear like this, I know I can make better coffee梐nd maybe a cure for cancer while we抮e at it.
A middle-aged woman not much taller than me with short curly hair appears at my side. 揧ou must be Eliza. Hello.?
I smile. 揧eah, that抯 me.?
揋ina Walker. I抦 the head of research and development.?She holds out her hand.
I shake her hand. 揂wesome to meet you.?
揕ikewise. It抯 not every day a fresh face handpicked by Mr. Lancaster personally shows up to join us. I抦 here to help you settle in. Let me show you to your desk.?She leads me to a cubicle. 揥e don抰 spend a lot of time at our desks, but you have a computer and drawers. It抯 good to check your emails whenever you can. Sometimes you抣l be testing all day, and that抯 fine. Just log it as you come in and out.?She picks up a clipboard full of lab sheets. 揟hese go to the testing stations with you, so you can record everything. It抯 important to log each step, ingredient, and device used. If we don抰 record it, we can抰 repeat it, and we certainly can抰 rely on our overworked brains to remember.?
Harsh, but sensible. I nod.
I抳e definitely had my memory hole days where I brewed up the perfect drink and then couldn抰 replicate it to save my life.
Even if everything here is beyond futuristic, I抦 always down for improving my technique.
揈verything happens here,?Gina continues. 揜oasting. Mixing. Brewing. Literally everything. There抯 a place to record observations at the bottom as well. These sheets need to be scanned in daily to keep us current on what works and what doesn抰. But if you抮e still working late, it抯 no big deal as long as they抮e all in the system by Friday.?
I put my purse in my drawer and grab my clipboard. Maybe too eagerly.
Gina smiles. 揈xcited to get started, huh??
揧ou have no idea. At the risk of sounding like a huge dork, coffee is my life.?
揧ou抮e in good company then.?She laughs. 揕et me show you where the beans are...?
We walk back to the lab area, where there are huge floor-to-ceiling storage compartments with hermetically sealed covers. They抮e all brimming to the top with various beans listed from lightest roast to darkest. Notes about their chemical composition and origins are on the labels, too.
Gawking, I lift one of the covers and inhale the freshest scent I抳e ever smelled because it抯 so good.
For a second, I wonder if I got flattened by a bus the day I walked out of that store after colliding with Lancaster. Because I抦 in heaven.
Gina hands me a small container full of freshly roasted Sumatran beans.
揗r. Lancaster said you made some unusually delicious coffee in a mason jar. He requested we start with that, if it抯 okay with you.?
揑抦 happy to show you, but I brewed it over a campfire. Any idea how we would replicate that in the lab??
揑nteresting.?She taps her chin, thinking. 揥e抣l fire up a grill for starters. If you need to, you can put the kettle directly on the flame. What kind of wood do you need??
I grin.
There are long days and happy days in life.
Miraculously, this is about to be both.
Several hours later, Gina stops by and finds me stirring the pot.
揝mells intense! Is it ready for a taste test??she whispers, adjusting her glasses.
揑 think so.?I ladle a cup for myself and take a cautious sip. I smile as the brew nips at my tongue. 揧ep, ready!?
I ladle out a second cup for Gina.
She takes a tiny sip at first and then a bigger one.
?..is that a hint of bourbon? This is amazing.?
揘o actual bourbon, but it does have notes like something that came out of an aged barrel.?I grin proudly while she sucks down the rest of her drink.